


Taken [Mine]

by Jesi_Ki_Kage



Series: A Prisoner [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Choking, Don't Have to Know Canon, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mental Health Issues, Mental Triggers, Mild Smut, Potentially Happy Ending, Pre-Canon, Red Room (Marvel), Red Room Natasha, Smut scene in part one, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, although it reads more consensual in this one, pre-SHIELD, prisoner capture relations, to eventually be added to this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:52:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25700122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jesi_Ki_Kage/pseuds/Jesi_Ki_Kage
Summary: When Maria first woke up she knew wherever she was it wasn’t good. She could remember pain. Questions. Screams. It took a moment for her brain to register anything beyond the throbbing, aching, stabbing pain throughout her body.The Red Room had her.
Relationships: Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov
Series: A Prisoner [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863811
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	Taken [Mine]

**Author's Note:**

> Right, so this has been sitting 2/3rds finished since March - when I posted part one. Had a shit day and since this is an angst fix decided to work on it. Unfortunately for those interested in it, I am not in the head space to try and write smut right now. At some point I may come back and add the scene but for now it's a fade to black.

When Maria first woke up she knew wherever she was it wasn’t good. She could remember pain. Questions. Screams. It took a moment for her brain to register anything beyond the throbbing, aching, stabbing pain throughout her body.

She was horizontal.

Air temperature across the parts of her skin she could feel told her she was nude.

While she couldn’t fully move them due to pain, she still had all her fingers and toes. It was better than nothing she supposed.

She didn’t stay conscious longer than that.

* * *

The next time Maria woke it was to the slamming of a door and footsteps coming towards her. A boot kicked her in the ribs and she couldn’t stop the whimper at the fresh wave of pain. Somewhere above her a comment was made in Russian before something was dropped on the ground in front of her.

The footsteps retreated.

The door slammed again.

Carefully Maria counted to ten in her head before opening her eyes. Or well, eye, as one of them was most definitely swollen so shut she couldn’t open it. Squinting she made out a dish a few steps from her head. She had to blink several times before her vision was clear enough for her to make out the bread and something else on the plate. Probably some cuisine local to Russia she didn’t know.

Shifting her gaze past the plate she tried to figure out where she was.

A sliding door on the wall by her head. A table with some chairs passed the plate, a desk nestled against the wall behind them. The door she must have heard was metal, maybe steel, and next to the desk. She couldn’t see the rest of the room from where she lay.

Carefully she checked her body again in preparation to move. She knew not all of her injuries would be known without moving, but it would still be smart to at least have a starting point.

The black eye was obvious. And the sore jaw from where she definitely remembered being hit a few times. Her lips were cracked, probably a split lip. One of her arms was numb from the shoulder out, probably dislocated. Those fingers could wiggle but a few of them hurt like she’d caught them in a car door. The other arm seemed fine until she tried to move it. Both her elbow and wrist immediately screamed fire at her.

Breathing deep hurt both her throat and her ribs. From the kick earlier she knew she had at best bruised ribs but not fractures or breaks. She hoped. Any shifting of her back hurt. Maria didn’t need to guess why, the memory of sheering pain as hot razor wire made contact with her skin again and again wasn’t one going away anytime soon.

Her hips ached, but didn’t appear to be more than sore. Possibly bruised. There was a bandage around one thigh that told her the stab wound, at least, had been treated by someone. Now that she was thinking about it the entirety of her back felt as if it had some sort of dried coating on it. Perhaps a cream. Or her own blood.

Shifting an ankle sent a flare of pain racing into her calf muscle. If Maria had been standing there was a good chance her leg might have buckled. As it was she had to fight another whimper from escaping. Thankfully that seemed to be the extent of the damage. At least that she could tell.

No obviously broken bones, fractures not withstanding, meant this would be easier than expected.

The chain around her good ankle told her it wouldn’t be that easy.

Very carefully she shifted her neck to finish checking her surroundings.

Empty corner on the other side of the door.

Bed in the fourth corner with a set of handcuffs hanging from the headboard and a nightstand next to it.

Maria’s breath caught.

The pieces finally clicked into place.

Furniture typical to a bedroom. No clothing provided but basic medical care and food to ensure she didn’t die. A chain to ensure she didn’t leave. But if she had anything to bet she’d bet the chain would reach the bed.

Bile crawled up her throat as she fought back her panic.

She knew this was a risk. She’d known what she was getting into when she joined the military and again when she joined SHIELD. She knew there were plenty of people out there who still viewed women’s bodies as objects for men to possess.

That didn’t make the panic at her probable future anymore bearable.

She passed out again.

* * *

The third time Maria woke couldn’t have been that much later. The plate of food was still in front of her. Her body still ached in nearly every way. Although one way in particular was demanding her attention.

Her bladder.

With a whimper she tried to shift to ignore it, but knew logically even if she ignored it now the issue would come back with a vengeance. She needed a bathroom and soon. Cracking her eye open Maria surveyed the room once more.

No luck.

But there was still the sliding door on the wall closest to her. It could be a closet. Or a private bathroom for the room’s owner.

The only way to find out was to move.

And she did. Very, very carefully, but she managed to get onto all fours. Maria didn’t bother trying to stand knowing she had a bum ankle. Her body wouldn’t be able to handle the abuse of falling to the floor. Crawling the few steps to the sliding door she was reminded of one more issue.

The chain around her ankle.

Thankfully, it appeared to have enough reach. Sliding the door open Maria couldn’t help the sigh of relief at the sight of a small bathroom. Just a shower stall, a toilet, and a sink with a single cabinet below.

Best of all, the chain reached so long as she kept that foot close to the door.

Initial biological needs cared for and hands cleaned as best she could without standing properly, Maria crawled back to the corner and the plate of food. Black swam in the corner of her vision but she knew she needed to eat in case the food was taken before she woke next.

At least she could say she tried.

* * *

Time passed. Maria was beginning to stay conscious more, but she didn’t bother moving knowing her body needed all the energy it could get to heal. With the light always on she had no way of knowing how long she’d been there beyond how often food was brought.

Twice a day she hoped, but her stomach told her less than that.

Which would put her at several days without any sign of who owned the room she was being held in.

She was not looking forward to finding out.

* * *

Maria couldn’t help the small noise of surprise when the next time the door opened and closed someone far different than she was expecting entered the room.

To be frank, the Black Widow looked like shit.

Even as the woman moved into a defensive stance, one arm bound to her chest by a sling, Maria could see the exhaustion wearing at her. She could also see a litany of small cuts all over the woman’s torso and she had no doubt there would be bruises hidden under the catsuit the woman wore in the field.

Not moving from her position huddled in the corner Maria watched as tired eyes registered her presence and seemed to blink back to awareness. 

After a few heartbeats the woman relaxed her stance and continued on as though nothing had happened. It wasn’t until the other woman began striping without bothering to close the bathroom’s sliding door that Maria realized exactly what was going on.

This was the Black Widow’s room.

She had been more or less _gifted_ to the Black Widow, the very woman who was responsible for Maria being here in the first place. Rage surged through her and Maria had to clench her fists until her injuries were screaming at her in protest to keep from reacting.

The Black Widow didn’t once glance her way.

Even as the Widow cut herself out of her own uniform and stood naked in Maria’s line of sight, the woman didn’t once acknowledge Maria after that first moment. Despite herself Maria couldn’t help but stare.

She’d been right, when Maria guessed there were bruises under the catsuit. The other woman’s skin looked almost like a dalmatians with the amount of discolored spots from bruises and cuts alike. When the woman simply stared in the mirror for several moments Maria wondered what she thought seeing her own form covered in injuries.

Then the redhead stepped out of view and Maria heard the shower start.

The sound of running water reminded Maria that she herself hadn’t had a shower since she’d been captured. The sudden awareness of her own filth was disconcerting. Instead Maria chose to focus on how she could use the knowledge that the Black Widow was her gatekeeper.

She found that while some things changed significantly, others didn’t change at all.

* * *

Maria couldn’t help but watch the woman as she slept. She felt a little guilty for disturbing the woman's slumber once she finally opened the medkit, but figured in the grand scheme of things it was fair trade considering Maria slept on the floor. When the Black Widow hadn’t immediately stood to take the medkit from her, Maria figured she didn’t have anything to lose by finishing the shit treatment that had been given to her.

She was aware out of the corner of her eye that the Black Widow was watching her as she set about stitching gashes and applying fresh bandages.

When she eventually heard the Widow’s breathing even out again Maria couldn’t resist stealing a glance.

The Widow looked softer. Although Maria supposed everyone looked softer in their sleep as their conscious minds finally allowed their bodies to relax. Maria thought it odd the woman had left her sling on even as she slept, but she supposed that maybe it was better to sleep with the sling. Maria wouldn’t know.

Something to look up later.

Because Maria refused to think there wouldn’t be a later.

Watching the Black Widow sleep until she was lulled to sleep herself Maria couldn’t help but wonder over her roommate. Over how the woman barely acknowledged her presence yet still deemed sharing the medkit with her of value. She wondered over the life lived by the Black Widow when not on missions. If it really was as bland as this one evening - at least, she assumed it was evening - had shown Maria.

She wondered at the Black Widow cuffing herself to the bed and what it meant.

She wondered at the significance of the Black Widow’s feeling the need to cuff herself to her own bed in what were clearly her own personal quarters.

Maria fell asleep with only questions.

* * *

Three days of watching the Black Widow turned into a rather interesting intellectual challenge for Maria. Oh, she knew she was only seeing pieces of the woman. After all, they had yet to interact beyond the medkit and the food the Black Widow brought her. 

Maria had honestly been a little surprised it was the Black Widow who brought her food and not someone else. Although, considering Maria's initial theory of her now being considered the Black Widow's property, she supposed she could see the logic of the Black Widow being in charge of her feed and care.

That begged the question then, of who was in charge of the Black Widow's.

Because in no organization Maria had ever heard of was someone sent out into the field a week after they broke their collarbone.

Or, well, after their collarbone was broken by someone else.

Technicalities.

Maria had been unable to watch the woman struggling for long. She had a heart, sue her. She'd still been careful, hyperaware that at any point she could set the Widow off. Her own injuries were only just starting to heal and Maria could barely move without stiffness. She'd taken to stretching when she could after watching the Widow do so every day.

She watched the Widow and learned. Maria had always been observant for the smallest of tells. She had needed to be in order to survive her father's abuse. And what she was seeing of the Black Widow's life was telling her things she had never expected. Sure she knew the Red Room wasn't good by any definition of the word she would use, but she hadn't expected what she saw.

The only possessions in the room were uniforms, plain black clothes clearly designated to be worn when not in uniform, and the weapons and tools required for her profession. Yet the Black Widow's signature weapons were not in the room. There was no phone, no laptop. In fact, there were no electronics at all beyond the lights and an alarm clock Maria had never seen the Widow use.

Every night before going to sleep the Black Widow would slip her hand inside the cuff on the bed.

All sorts of red flags had been raised in Maria's three days of observation. As she settled in to wait while the Widow was on mission Maria began trying to figure out how this information would be useful to escape.

Unfortunately, she wasn't able to think of anything that had more than a hair's chance of working.

* * *

The moment the Black Widow entered the room Maria could tell something was wrong. Even before the door had finished slamming behind her the Widow’s eyes had fixed on Maria.

And what emotion Maria saw in them.

The Black Widow had always been a blank slate when in the room with Maria. No expression. No emotion. Just rote action, routine, mechanical in its necessity. But no life, no spark, nothing like the rage storming towards her.

Maria was barely on her feet before the first punch was being thrown. If this had happened a week ago Maria would not have been able to react in time. As it was she barely got an arm up in time to save her face another black eye.

At least, another black eye from that punch.

Maria was on the floor and struggling to breathe when the Black Widow seemed to come back to herself.

Or well, that’s what Maria assumed happened when the woman suddenly jerked away from her and staggered backward several steps. Panting Maria elected not to bother moving. Recently healed wounds had been strained, reopened in a few cases, and she had a wonderful new collection of bruises.

Assessing the Black Widow showed a mix of old and fresh wounds.

Wounds that Maria knew she hadn’t caused but were fresh enough to still be bleeding freely.

Another red flag.

* * *

Giving medical aid to someone like the Black Widow had never once crossed Maria’s mind as being in the realm of possibilities so much as even a week ago. Yet here she was, not even an hour after having her ass handed to her by said Black Widow, carefully applying ointment and bandages to her captor.

Or roommate, depending on how you looked at it.

Shaking her head Maria returned her focus to the task at hand. The Black Widow hadn’t moved at all since Maria started unless directed to. But those eyes, oh those eyes were fixed on Maria with frightening intensity.

What Maria would give to know what was going through the woman’s head at that moment.

To know why this woman stayed. To know what hold the Red Room had over her. To know why someone as capable as the Black Widow had looked at her in confusion when presented with the idea of receiving medical treatment.

Thinking back to the woman’s minimal self treatment the last time Maria had seen her injured Maria had a feeling she would not like the answer.

* * *

 _"We're never allowed to keep our rewards longer than three months._ "

The words rattled around in Maria's brain like a loose marble. She knew the immediate implication that her life would soon be over if she didn't find a way out quickly. And of course she was concerned about that. Survival was most certainly a requirement.

But that wasn't why the words had sunk into her chest like a knife.

Rewards. Keep. Allowed.

It proved Maria's theory of being viewed as a possession of the Black Widow but in perhaps the worst possible way. In fact it confirmed several other theories Maria had been building over the last two weeks-ish of coexistence with the Black Widow.

The Red Room didn't have agents in the same sense as SHIELD did.

No.

It had slaves.

* * *

When the Black Widow didn’t return one month later Maria was concerned, but not overly. She knew missions went bad, and that long missions tended to run even longer than planned. Food was brought to her once a day, but otherwise the door to the room never opened.

More food would have been extremely helpful, but she made due with plenty of rest and was just thankful the ones providing her food deemed her unworthy of any, ah, additional advances. Otherwise, Maria stretched. Worked her slowly recovering body in preparation of her only shot, assuming she would get one, because she refused to think otherwise.

When the Black Widow finally did return, almost two weeks late, the Widow returned with freshly dripping wounds and the same burning rage burning in her eyes as the last time she’d stormed into the room.

Maria was still rising when the Widow reached her and it cost her. The fight - and really it was only a fight and not a beating because Maria had started mostly uninjured compared to the Widow’s actively bleeding.

Every time Maria landed a hit, or made the Widow work for a hit, the blood still leaking from various wounds on the Widow’s body would go flying. Seeing it seemed to push the Widow to fight more not less, until Maria’s weary body couldn’t take anymore and within moments the Widow had her pinned.

Knowing at this point it was probably pointless Maria still tried to break free.

She got both her hands caught for the trouble.

Oh she still struggled, but with her hands pinned and the Black Widow’s other hand beginning to squeeze just that little bit too tight on her throat, Maria was struggling for a different reason.

Over two months and she’d managed to ignore the other woman’s body. Ignore the way the Widow spent more time in the room without clothes then with. Ignore the way her blood spiked during particular moments, even if her iron will meant she’d easily pushed the moments from her mind.

She found it extremely difficult to ignore their current position however, and despite her best efforts to keep it hidden, the Black Widow eventually noticed the shift in Maria’s thought process as the two remained in the pin. Maria on her back, immobile, the Widow across her hips and in complete control.

In the end, her hips bucking was inevitable. So to, was what followed.

* * *

The sudden stiffness of the body next to her woke Maria, although at that point she’d been dozing more than truly asleep. Sleeping in a bed had been glorious, and she’d certainly been plenty exhausted by the time the Black Widow had allowed her to fall asleep. 

Not a single part of Maria regretted what happened.

At least not yet. That may change though depending on how her current bedmate reacts.

“Hey. You okay?” 

Maria kept her voice soft, not bothering to clear the morning roughness. There was a high chance the Widow would react with violence, but as the tension locking the frame in front of her showed no sign of relaxing Maria felt she had to do something. Including carefully placing her hand on the Widow’s back.

The clear confusion in the Black Widow’s voice when she answered caused Maria’s heart to ache for reasons entirely unrelated to survival. Still, ignoring just how young the other woman sounded in that moment, Maria knew she owed an answer.

But she hesitated anyways. The Widow was on edge, trembling slightly now, her muscles coiled and strained, instead of the marble stillness from before Maria had spoken. Maria’s sense of decorum told her she should give some platitude of not believing she’d be able to escape. It was true after all. But- it wasn’t why she hadn’t tried.

“You’re just as much a prisoner here as I am, aren’t you?”

Spasms wracked the Widow’s body as she sputtered denials. Maria’s chest ached for the other woman but she refused to think of why. Instead she focused on the excuse given, on the flash of rage felt at that lie the Widow was telling herself.

“Bullshit.” Maria started, ignoring the way the Widow flinched at her words. 

“Yes, following their orders, living as they dictate is all you have done. But it is not all you know, else you would not be able to go undercover and seamlessly blend in, take on a role, complete a mission without anyone the wiser. I know of you, Black Widow, and you are far more capable than you allow yourself to be.”

She felt as the trembling in the Widow’s frame increased, as her hand in the cuff clenched until the knuckles were stark white.

Maria couldn’t stop her own flinch at the choked whisper that filled the silence.

Triggers.

Mental triggers.

Horror froze Maria in place even as her mind whirled at the implications, the possibilities, and the added layer of complication this just added to Maria’s survival rate.

Well, that certainly explained why someone of the Black Widow’s skill set had never left.

It made sense, in a twisted kind of way. How else were they to ensure loyalty of their troops when it was clear the organization ran on fear and pain and abuse? Maria had seen several red flags in the Black Widow’s behavior in the last two months of observation and she would bet a lot that what she’d seen was only scratching the surface of the trauma the other woman had been through.

But knowing this didn’t change anything if Maria didn’t find a way to live past the next however many days were left.

Unless….

Maria needed to know more about these triggers. She needed to know if there was a loophole in them. A way to either free the Black Widow and convince her to help or a way to turn the triggers to Maria’s advantage. She moved her free hand to gently grasp the Widow’s in her cuff, reassurance and reminder at the same time. 

She kept pushing until for several heartbeats Maria feared she’d overstepped.

The Widow had gone perfectly still, even the trembling stopping, the moment Maria had implied using the other woman’s triggers to escape. The answer would determine whether Maria died here and now or not. Unfortunately, that answer was out of Maria’s hands as the Widow battled internally against her triggers.

When the Black Widow pulled her hand out of the cuff Maria held her breath.

Maria had no illusion that if the woman decided to kill her there was little chance of Maria surviving in this moment. But the Widow just laced her fingers with Maria’s and lowered their clasped hands to rest above their heads.

The tension drained from her frame as Maria realized that, at least for now, she was safe. Whatever decision the Black Widow had come to in terms of her triggers it meant Maria lived a little longer.

And maybe, just maybe, that she’d have help trying to escape.

* * *

It took a while for the Widow to finally get out of bed after that. Maria didn’t blame the woman. She didn’t want to either. But as the Widow got up and began getting dressed Maria slipped to the bathroom and then returned to her corner, her actions all dependent on those of the Black Widow.

Before the Widow left she relocked the chain in place on Maria’s ankle.

If Maria read some hesitancy in the movement, she certainly wasn’t going to push her luck by mentioning it.

It had barely been anytime before the door opened again, and the pair that entered were certainly not the Black Widow. That meant either one of two things. Either the Black Widow had immediately gone and told her superiors, or someone had been waiting for the Widow to leave before sending these two in.

Given just how quickly after the Widow had left these two arrived, Maria was betting the latter.

Which meant she was out of time.

And the longer Maria hesitated, resisted, the more they grew aggressive, to the point of one going for a gut punch when they deemed Maria moving too slowly. The slam of the door smashing into the wall followed by two swift take downs - much faster than had been used against her yesterday - marked the Widow’s return.

As the bodies hit the floor Maria got a good look at the woman who had likely just saved her life - even if it was simply delaying the inevitable. The Black Widow’s eyes were filled with fury at first. Yet as Maria watched the eyes widened, the jaw loosened, and for the first time it was easy to read the other woman’s expression.

Shock.

Apparently the type of shock that was so extreme the woman was beginning to hyperventilate. Given the rather dramatic return and the reveal of likely highly sensitive information it was extremely likely that killing those two would result in extremely Bad Things for the Black Widow upon discovery.

And Maria had no doubt it would be discovered very, very quickly.

Thankfully, it wasn’t that hard to bring the Black Widow back from the edge of her panic. Which only made Maria wonder if this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Then blue met green and well, if Maria liked the steal she saw in that gaze, no one would know but her.

* * *

Watching in horror as the hasty warning about voice command based triggers had not prepared Maria to go racing down the stairwell only for the Black Widow to just freeze. Completely shutdown. Facial expression slack, eye glazed, posture relaxed.

For several seconds Maria stared in horror as the reality of triggers meant hit Maria.

Then her training and survival instincts kicked in and she moved, placed herself right in the Black Widow’s face - blatantly turning her back to a half dozen guns that could kill her in a moment - and asked, no _ordered_ , the Black Widow take the same scenario Maria had posed only hours earlier.

Watching as those blank eyes blinked at her sent a shiver down her back, but when the Widow nodded ever so slightly Maria had to contain her exhale of relief. Had to contain it because moments later the fire fight began and she was once again fighting for her life.

Fighting for her life with the Black Widow.

With the Black Widow who was helping her escape.

Maria could only hope the command continued to work. Hope the trigger didn’t somehow override the changed objective she’d given. Hope someone else didn’t find a way to give a new command that went beyond Maria’s ability to understand, spoken in Russian as the commands were. As they fled the building Maria hoped for a lot of things.

Mostly she just hoped that she could convince the Black Widow to stay with her once all was said and done.

* * *

With no idea the layout of the base, Maria was forced to follow as the Black Widow made a sharp turn to a different building. The Widow dispatched the guards with ease, and moments later Maria found herself in a medical facility being directed to treat the unlucky gunshot wound. Then the Black Widow was gone, and Maria could only stare at the closing door.

Bandaging her arm didn’t take long at all. It was, unfortunately, not her first time getting a nasty graze from a bullet. She could only be thankful it was a graze, not a direct hit, or the blood trail she’d be leaving would be easy to track.

As she waited for the Widow’s return, Maria forced herself to plan ahead. Being distracted by anxiety over the unknown never did anyone any good. The best she could do was plan. So she did.

Even as she shifted to guard the door in case a guard came before the Widow’s return Maria reflected on what she’d learned at the base of that stairwell.

A name.

The Black Widow’s name.

_Natalia._

The sound of approaching boots - significantly louder than the Black Widow’s near silent prowl - stopped her from thinking on that further. From trying to pick apart the use of the name with the command. Knowing which words or phrases were triggers was imperative, but so was killing the guards who were nearing the room.

The return of the Black Widow herself on the heels of the second dead body was a relief Maria didn’t let show. As was the switch and efficient way weapons were handed over to her and C4 was prepped.

But for all the effectiveness, Maria knew the blood leaking from the Black Widow’s, from _Natalia’s_ hands, had to be getting annoying. Even if Natalia would likely never say something. Because of that Maria hadn’t bothered putting away any of the medical supplies while waiting on her return.

Seeing the complete lack of understanding on the Black Widow’s still a little glazed eyes when she gestured to said medical supplies made something in Maria ache once more.

There was no resistance when Maria took first one hand and then the other to clean and bandage them. Instead Natalia stood and watched, a painful echo of the last time Maria had done this nearly two months ago.

For a moment it looked like Natalia was going to say something once she finished. But after a few blinks of just watching she didn’t, instead turning and motioning for the door.

Without a word Maria followed.

* * *

Maria had to admit, that was an extremely nice explosion.

As the pair ran further into the woods a wave of tension eased from around Maria’s heart.

Oh she knew they were nowhere near safe. Still very much in tracking distance and nowhere near a safe house, but they were outside of the base. That was further than Maria had expected to make not two days ago.

Then the Black Widow came to a stop and asked for more orders.

That band of tension that had just left?

Yeah, Maria felt it again two fold.

Orders. Triggers.

Did she try and guess? Leave the Black Widow under as long as possible? Or did she do the humane thing her heart was begging of her and inform Natalia her orders were complete. Assuming that would even work.

Shit. 

Either way she was guessing on the correct Russian phrase.

Taking a chance, Maria tried the other woman’s name. No response. And didn’t that hurt like a knife. But it also meant they hadn’t turned her own name into a trigger word. Small favors.

_“Widow.”_

Immediately the Black Widow shifted to attention.

Good enough.

Rattling off the address to the only safe house Maria knew about she’d have to hope it was close. Close enough they could get there without the red room following. Close enough that her likely unwilling companion didn’t bolt the moment these triggers wore off.

And maybe, when they did eventually wear off - or Maria figured out the command to release her from them - Natalia would choose to stay.

**_~fin~_ **


End file.
